Precious Things
by I.M. Elizabeth
Summary: It is a room that's filled with a childlike sadness...   Mello/OC  *Sexual implications*


**Precious Things**

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Death Note in any way, shape or form. However I do own the character Layla Levandi and the situations as seen here_

Layla can't help but feel uncomfortable as she and Mello sit in the old graveyard where her father is buried. They've come to Estonia for good enough reasons, Estonia is known for its mafia with their drug money and occasional gambling.

She felt so strange, coming into this place that has nothing but bad memories and unanswered prayers. She sits sheepishly on her haunches unsure of what to say to the father she can barely remember, the one who named Layla, telling her mother she had a dark kind of beauty in her eyes.

Her mother thought she was dark, but certainly not beautiful. Her mother thought she was probably the the prince of darkness incarnate. Her mouth quirks up slightly at the thought of being that evil, even she is not that cruel. But, a month after she was born he died mysteriously, and five years later she began hearing the voice of the hinigami Sidoh.

But, she doesn't want to think about that now, doesn't want to think about beatings and the stink of perfumed holy water. Mello is staring at her through the pale greyness of his sunglasses and Layla knows he's waiting for her to cry, to show something, but she doesn't know what to feel about anything regarding her family. All she can think of is the stink of holy water and how it has never really left her skin.

Mello clears his throat, and she can tell he's getting impatient with her silence, "Aren't you going to...talk to him or something?"

She looks at him, then looks away. What is she supposed to say to a stone? Is it supposed to represent her father now? Instead, she finds herself wondering if her mother had loved her at one point, when her father was still around. She wonders if that first month of life was the only peace she'd ever known.

Then, she stands and begins walking back towards the old church where she has spent most of her childhood.

Mello jogs up to her a few moments later, and he's still peering up at her through his sunglasses, "Are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to go in there."

But she does have to, she has to go and face the dark, broken part of her soul that hides deep in her eyes. But, she feels better knowing that Mello is here, and Mello can save her from herself if needed.

They stand at the doorway and it looms over her, ominous and cold. Then Mello's hand is over hers, pushing her hand against the door. They push it open together and a gust of stale air comes through the opening and she recoils.

But, Mello is guiding her though the doors, his hand on the small of her back and the heaviness of it makes her glad.

It looks the same as she remembers, same old dark wooden pews and alter, a large crucified Christ that looms over everything, watching over them with agonized eyes. Layla shudders and turns to look at Mello who is gazing around at the church with barely masked disgust.

It smells the same as she remembers too, like stale air and old paper, smells she has come to associate with despair.

"Come here." she says quietly, leading Mello towards the back of the church. "I want you to see the house."

"House?" he says questionably, pulling up his sunglasses on his head.

She lets out a tiny sigh, "Yeah, there's a house attached where we lived."

They walk far behind the statue of Christ and through a small door, and suddenly they are in a tiny living room. It is full of dreary furniture with plain beige cloth and there are sparse decorations, all of them having to do with God. Mello cannot imagine any kind of child growing up here in this strange house where no ounce of love is shown.

He glances at Layla and sees her lip quivering and she bites down on it hard enough to draw blood. Mello wonders what she's thinking about, if he should hold her, or touch her at all even.

She totters over to the rickety wooden staircase and steps on it gingerly as if she is afraid of her heels poking through the wood. Mello watches her hand shakily touch the railing, and it wobbles slightly.

Layla leads him up into a narrow hallway with three doors, two on the each side and one in the ceiling that is probably an attic. It is this attic door that Layla goes to, and she stands up on her tiptoes to pull at the string where a set of stairs falls down.

She walks up these stairs now, and Mello can smell the heavy scent of old paint and wood. When she lifts herself up into the room, a small strangled whimper falls from her lips. She moves aside so Mello can enter the room as well.

It is a room that's filled with a childlike sadness. A single mattress lay in the corner of the room, covered in a threadbare blanket. The rest of the attic is bare and wooden, with the tiniest window above the bed. Small dust particles float in the sunlight and Mello sighs.

There are small drawings in chalk, mostly trees and flowers all over the floor and walls. Even though time has rubbed them away Mello can see the talent that already spilled from her fingers at such a young age.

"I was in here when I wasn't being prayed over." Layla says and Mello watches the careful shudder that passes through her. "I used to hum songs to myself and imagine being outside. Sidoh kept me company a lot of the time. When he could, he'd bring me food, sweets and things, you know. Sweets are against God in my mother's eyes. Especially chocolate. Chocolate is sinful."

Mello blinked, his own mother had always said that food was the best form of praise. If food made you happy, it made God happy too.

"Chocolate isn't sinful..." Mello murmurs, but she isn't listening. She's ranting now, her words spilling out of her mouth like boiling water, the way her words overlap with a burning hatefulness

"Everything is sinful." she spits, "Me, you, us. According to my mother anything that distracts from God is sinful. Don't you see? I'm like this great black spot on my mother's perfect holy life. Crazy bitch who talks to herself and kills her father with sins she can't remember..."

Her mouth twitches rapidly and before the first tears start to fall Mello has her in his arms.

Then she's screaming, beating out her anger against Mello's chest, clawing against his jacket and the rosary that hangs around his neck. Mello strings his hands in her hair, humming lullabies in her ears as he does so. Then, she slumps, weak and heavy with hate and pain.

He places her down on the mattress, and sets to work, kissing away the tears that fall from her eyes.

Then, she's tugging at his clothes, pushing off his sunglasses, pulling off his shirt. But, when her hands find the laces on his leather pants Mello stops her.

"No," he murmurs, his lips on her temple.

Mello feels guilty, like he would be taking advantage of her in her emotional state. They can't consummate in here, where there isn't an ounce of love in the air, only dust particles that glare in the sunlight.

"Please," she begs, pressing her cheek against the scarred side of his chest. "Please Mello, please."

She's begging, and he doesn't want her to hurt, he wants to fix it. Because, fixing her pain is his job, even if he's awful at it and makes more pain than he intends to.

But still, he leans down and kisses her, pushes her back on the mattress that smells like dust and sadness. He's peeling off her clothes and she's crying when he does it, running her hands over his lips and face.

When their bodies are bare, their dance begins. She cries though, and he rocks her in his arms as they sway against one another. She's saying things he doesn't understand in Estonian and he hushes her with kisses and sighs.

When their pleasure is released she collapses against him, and cries against his his chest. The words she murmurs just about break his heart in two.

"You're the only person who loves me, Mello."


End file.
